You taint my mind and soul
by Shakugan no Shana
Summary: He hated Antonio for making Arthur miss him… For making Arthur need him. For somehow nestling himself so deeply under Arthur's skin without the blond even noticing.
**Fandom:** Axis PowerHetalia

 **Pairing:** SpUk/EngSpa

 **Rating:** T

 **Warning:** Emotional struggle, prostitutes, alcohol. Mentions of sex. Arthur/OC? Maybe. Kind of. Not really. Just barely…

 **Disclaimer:** Hetalia isnot mine.

 **Summary:** He hated Antonio for making Arthur miss him… For making Arthur need him. For somehow nestling himself so deeply under Arthur's skin without the blond even noticing.

 **Notes:** Slightly altered history to make Port Royal English territory during Elizabethan times on request to have the queen there. You know who you are.

AND Happy Birthday Antonio! As a gift I'm presenting you Arthur's heart and his immortal soul XD forever. Feliz cumpleaños!

 **Note2:** Inspired by a prompt from the spukficsrequestblog

* * *

"He is _where_ doing _what_!?"

The outraged shout echoed in the throne room, silencing the gossip between all nobleman and court maidens that were present. All of them looked towards her, but the queen paid them no heed. She gritted her teeth and exhaled sharply, trying to keep her composure. It would be highly inappropriate to lose her temper in front of her own people.

"Y-Your Majesty! Please, I beg of you! Believe me!" The messenger shakily whispered, knowing that the queen would not want anyone from the court to overhear. "I found Lord Kirkland on Port Royal." He paused trying to gather the courage to complete his report. He was scared of what would happen to him. "He kept drinking himself into a stupor…" He gulped when her blue eyes flashed with a fierce glare. "H-he was going from tavern to tavern and from…b-bro-brothel-" He paled even more at what he was about to say about the queen's favourite Earl. He cleared his throat and steeled himself. "From brothel to brothel, Milady. Every night I found him drunk in a ditch and he kept muttering a name."

Elizabeth's chest tightened at the thought of that man. The rascal and scoundrel to whom she had dedicated her whole life. What he was and what he represented was the most important thing in the world to her. She allowed the anger to simmer, to drown the hurt and the betrayal that was seeping through with every word the scared man before her said. She had a pretty good idea of whose name Arthur had been moaning. It made the knives in her chest cut even deeper.

"Name? Tell me this name." The man cowered at her sharp tone. "Lieutenant, now!"

"A-Antonio, Milady. He was mumbling about an Antonio…"

Before she knew it, she had gotten up from her throne. Even though the Queen had expected it, it did not hurt less to have it confirmed. So her beloved was, once again, drowning himself in alcohol over that Spanish pig. She gritted her teeth and stormed out of the room, towards her personal quarters. Her handmaidens rushed to follow her, confusion obvious in their eyes, but she ignored them. She was too focused on her hurt to care.

She had tried numerous times to keep her beloved country away from that Spaniard, obviously without much success. It was the only instance where the blond had completely refused to heed her commands, no matter how good her arguments were. Her fists clenched remembering the countless quarrels they've had over that man and every time Arthur walked away from her. Just so that he could chase after the cursed Spaniard. Pain spread through her soul, causing her manicured nails to dig into the skin of her palms. It burned, to see the one she loved chase after someone else. She wanted Antonio away from Arthur. She wanted him gone. Sometimes, when the pain of being ignored and left behind became too much, she cursed the man for his mere existence. She wanted him to suffer.

Elizabeth shook her head slightly, trying to get rid of the dark, unpleasant feelings boiling inside her. She needed a good cup of tea and a relaxing bath. Yes, that would do. She would send someone to retrieve her stray kingdom in the morning.

—

The morning sun rays caressed his skin and slowly brought him to consciousness. A warm breeze ruffled blond locks, as the owner turned and snuggled closer to the warmth next to him. It felt good. His body was humming with a pleasant kind of tiredness that came only after a night with his lover. Emerald eyes blinked open briefly, closing against the brightness of the room. He nuzzled gently into his other man's throat, his lips stretching into a smile when his lover leaned back into him unconsciously.

The other shifted beneath him, turning his head towards Arthur. The blond sighed gently, giving up sleep. He propped himself on his elbow and admired the vision that was his lover. Dark skin that looked so soft, since he was constantly in the sun while travelling the seas. Full lips that were so kissable, he licked his own, wanting another taste. He could never get tired of that man's taste. He studied the other's relaxed face, loving the halo of soft brown locks surrounding his face. His eyes traced over closed eyelids, which were hiding the most breathtaking shade of green Arthur had ever seen. And he had seen a lot.

His hand moved as if of its own violation, reaching towards the sleeping man to caress him. A shock went through him when his fingers met the other's skin, sending a shiver down his spine. He didn't want to go. He wanted to stay here, in their small little room, away from everything. He removed a stray lock away from his lover's cheek.

The noises of the awakening town floated through the open window. He took a deep breath, wishing to stay like this forever. Laziness washed over him, and he absently imagined waking up like this, next to Antonio every single day. Entangled in his arms and in his warm embrace. He stilled when Antonio's arms tightened around him and the other placed a gentle kiss on Arthur's forehead in his sleep.

The action was so natural that the blond froze.

Wait. Wait.

Rewind.

 _What?_

No, no, _no…_ He had not just thought that! Dread pooled in the pit of his stomach as he stayed there, frozen in Antonio's arms. He did _not_ just imagine spending eternity with Antonio. Blood drained from his face and his heart sped up. This really had not happened, right? He shuddered, trying to get over what had just passed through his head.

No.

He was just half asleep. He had just been thinking about the good sex, right? His half asleep mind had just used the wrong words for it. It wasn't that he _wanted_ to wake up like that. It was just natural with how regularly they were together. And the great sex. Yes, that was it. His muscles relaxed as he allowed himself to breathe again. Just sex.

It was then that Antonio chose to shift in his sleep again and nuzzle into Arthur.

The blond bolted.

Antonio was startled awake when the other violently left their bed. He sat up and rubbed the sleep from his eyes, trying to comprehend what could have woken him. His hazy eyes focused on Arthur, who was half way through putting on his pants. Huh? Why was Arthur in such a hurry all of sudden? It was still early. He tried to push his mind into awareness as the blond threw his shirt on and buckled his belt.

"What's wrong? Are we under attack?" He got out of the bed, trying to locate all of his clothes. The other froze at the sound of his voice. Now where were his pants? He looked at Arthur and emerald eyes instantly met his own. The blond shook his head.

"N-no. Something came up. Urgent business… for the Queen." He was already walking towards the door, pulling his coat on. "Gotta dash."

Antonio opened his mouth to protest, to ask what was so urgent, but the other was already out of the door. He gritted his teeth at the blond's hasty exit. What the hell? Not caring he was completely naked, he went out on the balcony. He could see the blond exiting the tavern they had stayed in. He glared at his retreating form on the street below him. He was heading for the port.

"Arthur! Where the hell are you going?!"

The blond just sped up his step.

—

He wasn't in love with Antonio.

Arthur took a gulp from the amber liquid. He gritted his teeth and buried his head in his arms. He didn't love the Spaniard. He couldn't afford to feel this way for anyone. It was a weakness waiting to be exploited. His hands clenched into fists, tangling into blond locks. Admitting it would mean giving up control and independence. It was devastating, to have a weakness like that in these times. If he got attached to Antonio, it would surely be used against him.

The Spanish Empire would probably take immediate action against him, trying to take over his territories. A stab of dull pain shot through his chest. What if Antonio would convince his brother to go against Arthur? Just like Arthur had sided with Portugal before. Could he fight both his friend and his lover? His fist clenched in blond locks, the probabilities whirled in his calculating mind. Would he be able to defend himself against the Spaniard? If he was in love, would he be able to hurt the other? He was not sure and that frightened him to the core.

Backstabbing was a natural order of their world and Arthur would not be surprised at the next betrayal. He would be more surprised if someone actually _didn't_ betray him. There was no alliance he could trust. It had always been used against him in the past. His frame trembled. Allies betraying their treaties, trying to invade and conquer him. His people suffering wars and dying to defend their country. His breath hitched as memories of the past surged forward. Himself captured by the enemy, his land robbed of resources. His hard won riches taken and his people left to starve. A shudder went through him.

He could not show such…vulnerability to anyone. Let alone a major power like the Spanish Empire. Loving Antonio was akin to opening a door for him and giving him the ammunitions to destroy Arthur. His eyes sharpened, hard and resolute emeralds glaring at his surroundings. He could not let that happen. He couldn't love. Would not. Not Antonio. Not anyone.

Anyone but his people.

They were the reason he existed, and he lived for their interests. They were the core of his being and he would not have them threatened by a selfish whim on his part. Never.

So no, he did not love the brunette. It was impossible. The great sex must have clouded his head, somehow. Antonio was a great lay, but Arthur did not need him. He wasn't a necessary piece of Arthur's life. He was just a good bonus. A hot, delicious bonus, but overall not important.

He needed some distance to clear his head.

It was just a small, insignificant thing he needed to get out of his system. Get drunk and fuck someone. A good few days at the Caribbean should do the job. Port Royal was the perfect place for this.

—

The room was spinning around him as a body writhed in pleasure under him. Arthur groaned as he tried to drown out the flashes of sinful tanned skin and olive green eyes. Why couldn't the woman beneath him feel as satisfying or as good as that man? She moaned and arched her back, but the only thing Arthur could see was Antonio's body twisting under him. He tried to focus on her face because he did not want to think about the Spaniard right now, damn it. Not now. Not ever!

The only thoughts that passed through his hazy mind were that it was _wrong_. The lips were wrong, the shape and colour were different. They weren't full like Antonio's were after a few deep kisses. The cheeks were different and the face was amiss. Then he looked at the eyes – that dull shade of brown – completely different from the mesmerising olive green that belonged to… NO! He shook his head and closed his eyes trying to banish the image of Antonio's smile and eyes from his mind.

"Yes! Yes, harder honey!" The high-pitched female voice made his skin crawl. Why was he doing this to himself again? It was the same thing night after night. He could find no pleasure in it. Bile pooled in the pit of his stomach and laughter bubbled inside. It made its way out and he couldn't find it in himself to stop. Why couldn't he get the damn Spaniard out of his mind? The wench had stopped moving and was staring at him in shock and fear, but Arthur couldn't bring himself to care.

The nausea crawled up, and the next moment he had pulled away from her, ignoring her protests and heaved out of the window. He coughed and gagged as he emptied the contents of his stomach out on the street below. He could hear distant shouts, but the ringing in his ears drowned them out.

His eyes wandered across the room and landed on his half-finished drink. He made a grab for it, but his hand was caught in two smaller, more delicate ones.

"Come back to bed, honey." He jerked away and tried to take his drink again. Her brows furrowed when she was ignored for the second time. He chugged his rum and buckled his belt. There was no point in continuing this. There would be no release for him. No rest for the weary, right? He just had to get more alcohol in his system. That should do the job right? Drinking himself into a stupor always helped. He wouldn't let it fail him now.

"Hey! Come back here, you drunk bastard!" Came an angry shout. Startled out of his thoughts he turned in her direction. "Sorry, _honey_. It seems that I find more pleasure in alcohol, than I do in you." With a theatrical bow, he closed the door. A tump was heard from the other side as something solid smashed into it, followed by an enraged scream.

He wandered downstairs, making a direct beeline for the bar. Maybe tomorrow he would pick that hooker with the dark chocolate hair and green eyes. He had seen her in one of the other brothels. Who knew, maybe finally picking someone that looked somewhat like the damned bastard would do the job. His pride stung. Choosing her felt a little bit like giving up, but he was way past the point of caring.

After ordering another glass of rum and stared into its amber depths as if they held all the answers. He had avoided Antonio for months. Stayed away from the open ocean and stuck close to the Caribbean hovels. So why the hell couldn't he keep him out of his head? His crew didn't seem to mind the break. He lifted the glass and was about to take a big gulp, when his shoulder was grabbed roughly. His world spun as he was turned around, face to face with a livid moustached man.

"Ye slovenly swine!" The other growled at him as he tried to make his eyes focus on the man. Ah, he had blotches of puke on his coat. Arthur was grabbed by the collar of his shirt and shaken roughly. "I'll cut out yer tongue and feed it to the sharks!"

The man lifted his arm, and was about to take a swing at him when Arthur wrenched free and held up his arm. "Just a second, mate." He turned around as if nothing had happened and chugged his rum.

"Now, where were we?" His face met a furious fist. The force of the blow toppled him onto a table. Its occupants cursed in anger. Grabbing the nearest bottle, Arthur tried to lift himself up, but a boot to the ribs sent flares of pain through him. His arms gave in and he almost kissed the sticky, wooden floor. He looked around, finding that the brawl had escalated, and now every drunken sailor in the tavern was into the fray. Their faces were blurry and he felt nausea rise inside of him again. He closed his eyes, trying to will the feeling away and took deep gulps of air. As the need to puke lessened, he finally deemed it safe to make his way up on his feet. He saw the bearded man approaching him, clutching a chair. Swaying forward, Arthur took a few steps towards him, managing to avoid the makeshift weapon. That was close. Getting hit by a chair hurt.

He took a swing from the bottle, mourning what he was about to do to it, but it seemed that he had no choice. Faster than the moustached man could blink, Arthur broke it in his head. Glass shards flew everywhere and Arthur lost his balance and landed in a heap, knocking down another table in the process. He blinked, trying to get his bearings back together. Why was everything upside down?

Arms grabbed him by the elbows, and he tried to struggle free, he really did, but the alcohol in his system was too much. "We've seen enough of you for tonight, mate."

"He started it." Was his defiant mumble. The protest was ignored as he was carried out of the door, and thrown down in the rubbish next to the tavern. His body screamed in protest when it met the hard, dirty ground.

For a few seconds he laid there, waiting for the pain to ebb away. He turned, so he was laying on his back. Clouded eyes looked up at the night sky, all the stars twinkled down at him. His mind wandered to their last meeting. Fire had lighted up the dark sea and the smell of gunpowder had penetrated the air. Antonio had grinned at him surrounded by flames. Arthur moaned.

"Damn you!" His hand covered his eyes as he tried to banish the other from his mind, heart and soul, though it seemed like an impossible task. "Damn you to hell!" His other arm wrapped protectively around himself, as if trying to block everything. Maybe some masochistic part of him did not want to let go.

He needed to see the other. He shouldn't, but he did. He squeezed his eyes shut, head throbbing painfully. Why was it that the further away he stayed, the more Antonio was on his mind? He groaned as he pressed the heels of his hand to his temples, trying to lessen the pain.

Everything reminded him of the damn Spaniard. He was not behaving like himself and he hated it. His eyes glared blearily at nothing in particular. He hated that he missed his toned body and his tantalizing lips. He hated Antonio for making Arthur miss him… For making Arthur need him. For somehow nestling himself so deeply under Arthur's skin without the blond even noticing.

Yes. He hated Antonio.

—

Antonio was leaning on the railing of his galleon. The sea breeze ruffled his hair gently and the afternoon sun shined happily from high in the sky. A small convoy of English ships appeared on the horizon and for the first time in a while he felt his blood rush with adrenaline. He quickly shouted to his men to take their positions and get ready for battle. He took out his monocular and studied their approach. There was no pirate flag on any of them, though that could be just a diversion.

His breath hitched, anticipation filling him as the ships sailed closer, not straying from their course. It quickly turned to confusion when he saw that the ships had not even taken an offensive formation yet… They were close enough to see with the naked eye now. What was going on here? From his position on the side, he was close enough to admire the beautiful woodwork on the mast and the railings. The beautiful mermaid sitting proudly on the nose of the ship, closest to him. The English flag waving proudly in the wind.

Why was it that this situation was so _wrong_?

Why weren't they attacking? This was… different. He hadn't been close enough to one of Arthur's ships without having to dodge cannonballs and grape shots in years. It had become such an instinct that it was just plain wrong to have the English ships just pass by. Why was it that they were just going on their way, almost ignoring his ship? The wrongness of it all took his breath away. Couldn't they see his flag? Didn't they want his gold? Wasn't their Queen hell bent on destroying him? Where was Arthur?

If he was here, then things would be different. They wouldn't be so _boring._ There would have had been a battle, there would've had been blood and he would finally be able to see the blond. He would finally be able to trail his eyes over the toned body. He closed his eyes, imagining Arthur standing there before him, fires and ash all around, blade in one hand, pistol in another. His lips stretched in a shark-like grin and emerald eyes glittering dark with lust and greed. He swallowed, his blood rushing places it had no business going right now, only from the mental image of it. They would dance, Antonio's halberd meeting Arthur's sword in a deadly struggle. The desire would feel almost tangible around them as they fought for dominance.

Then whoever would win the battle would capture their prize. The gold and the loot would be all but forgotten as they would become too absorbed in each other to care for anything else. Somehow they would always end up either in his own captain's quarters or in Arthur's, exploring their bodies over and over again, until each of them was too tired to move.

He wanted to feel the other against him again. Their bodies intertwined in the darkness. He missed the blond twisting beneath him, blunt nails digging into his back, drawing blood as they lost themselves in utter bliss. He shuddered as he sank deeper into his memories. How the blond looked when down on his knees in front of Antonio, lips swollen and hair tousled, embodying sin and temptation. The sounds the blond made when Antonio touched, kissed and sucked all the right places. He licked his lips and swallowed. The way the other would smirk wickedly down at him, pearly white teeth gleaming in the darkness before making Antonio's world explode.

Then there was the other side, the gentler moments that he ached for as well. He missed waking up with the blond in his arms. The way the blond would curl into him in his sleep. He loved how the other looked in his sleep, sometimes tossing and turning, mumbling under his breath. He missed those lazy mornings when they met on a random island and could afford to spend more time together. He missed being able to kiss the blond, slowly, languidly, not wanting the moment to end. The way Arthur would pout when it was time to wake up.

How horrible it always felt to have those stolen moments come to an end.

Coming back to the now, Antonio shook his head, noticing that the ships had passed them by without as much as a glance in their way. Where in the seven hells was Arthur?! The blond had all but disappeared on him after that morning. He hadn't seen hair nor hide from him, and it was starting to worry him. Normally the brit would find a way to get to Antonio after a month or two after their last encounter. What had caused this? Had he done something?

Thinking back to the particular day, why had the blond looked so… _freaked out_? He remembered his pale face and the way the other had stiffened when he heard Antonio's voice. Back then, Antonio had paid it no mind, but it was strange. Arthur hadn't reacted to him in that way in centuries. He scrunched his eyebrows, trying to remember anything he could've done to cause this reaction from his love. Nothing came to mind. He had just woken up, his still half asleep brain unable to process why Arthur was putting on his clothes in such a hurry. Where had he gone?

Antonio doubted very much that it was actual urgent business from Arthur's Queen. There had been no messages, no messengers waiting in front of the door. The blond had just dashed out, leaving Antonio alone and confused. His pout deepened as he couldn't find a reason. He didn't like it that Arthur had ran. He had no right to leave Antonio like that. Antonio wouldn't let him…

His eyes hardened with determination as he made up his mind. Alright, enough sulking and waiting around. It was time to go hunt down the blond's location and ask him what the hell was his problem.

First stop – the Caribbean. He would start his search there and see where it led him.

Shouting to his men of their change of plans, he quickly turned their ship in the general direction of their new destination and retreated in his cabin to plan their course. Pouring himself a glass of rum, he quickly drew their new course on one of the maps laying around on his desk. Arthur would not get away from him that easily, if Antonio had something to say about it.

And Antonio definitely did.

—

Arthur stumbled his way out of yet another tavern and into the pouring rain. It was still afternoon, yet the sky was dark and grey. Around him people were rushing to take cover, but he did not even feel the rain hitting his frame. He wandered the muddy streets aimlessly, stumbling his way through the crowd. Someone slammed into him, pushing the air out of his lungs, sending him sprawling in the mud.

He closed his eyes, letting the rain pelt down on him. This was a waste of time. He just couldn't stop thinking of the bloody Spaniard. It was driving him insane. The need just wouldn't go away and he was getting tired of denying it.

He ached for Antonio.

"Are you alright?"

He turned towards the voice, only to see the green eyed lady he had been eyeing yesterday. She was kneeling on his right holding an umbrella to protect her from the downpour. Was he alright? He blinked the water out of his eyes and was about to snap at her that no, he was not. The words died on his tongue when their eyes met. Such a similar shade of green…

"…No."

Small, delicate hands wrapped around his elbow and she pulled him lightly, urging him to get up. "Come, darling, if you stay here any longer, you'll catch a cold."

He was tired. Did he care at this point? "It doesn't matter." Emerald eyes averted to the side, stubbornly looking at a pile of barrels lined next to the main street. Another tug at his arm.

"Come. It would be very rude of you to make a lady wait in the rain."

The snort worked its way out faster than he could suppress it, but his body moved to get up. She pulled his arm with a surprising amount of strength, helping him to his feet. The umbrella was moved over them to shelter Arthur from the rain. "You need a warm drink, darling." Her palm pressed to his forehead. "Looks like the fever has already caught you in her grasp." He just stood there, letting her do as she pleased. Did it really matter? He'd been feverish and thrumming with need for months.

"As long as it's alcoholic."

She turned to him raising her eyebrow. "Hmm?"

"The drink," He croaked. "As long as it's alcohol." Her smile lit up her face in a way that made his chest tighten. She reminded him so much of _him_.

"But of course, darling."

He found himself following her across the street and to the closest pub. She ordered him to wait outside, and Arthur deciding it was pointless to argue, sat himself on one of the veranda chairs. A moment later she was back, handing him a bottle of rum.

"If someone had stolen your ship, you would already be hunting them down… so darling, who broke your heart?"

He glared at her, emerald eyes flashing, lips twisting in a fierce scowl. "If that's some cheap tactic to get my money, you're wasting your breath."

"So I _am_ right?" She noted, completely unfazed by his sharp words. He crossed his arms defensively, glaring at a random spot on the road. "So, what little vixen managed to steal your love? She must be pretty good to get you."

"A vixen." He sneered at her, his glare intensifying.

"Oooh, a handsome sea devil then?" She leaned forward on the table in interest, curiosity shining in her eyes. All of the desperation, denial, and need pooled into his chest and mixed into something unrecognizable. He snapped.

"Oh, he's a handsome devil alright!" He growled. "That bloody devil has been haunting me for months. His eyes follow me everywhere and there is no escape. His cursed face is constantly there. In the back of my fucking mind! I have tried everything, _everything_ , to forget!" His fist hit the table and rattled their bottles. "He is even waiting for me in my dreams. It´s torture! I look at people but all I see are his eyes, looking down on me! I want to gouge them out so they can never follow me again!" His fingers curled into a fist, nails digging into his palm, almost breaking the skin. "I crave to rip the smile from his face. I hate him for being the only one that I desire! I despise him for entrapping me into this hell. I loathe him for reducing me to this!" He finished breathing heavily.

"Must be one hell of a sea devil, darling. To enthral a handsome one like you. You could have anyone, yet…" She titled her head on the side, gaze piercing. "You love him."

He buried his face in his arms, a desperate groan leaving him. "That's the whole damn problem!"

"Darling, it's no use to waste your days here. You should go get your man." If only it was that easy. He raised the bottle taking a few deep gulps. It burned his throat and he revelled in it. His eyes trailed gloomily over the puddle in front of him, the drops made miniature waves.

He noticed a figure coming their way from the port. They slowly approached and when Arthur was finally able to see it clearly, his heart stopped. There, in the middle of the muddy street, in the heavy downpour was Antonio. Arthur's breath hitched and his eyes widened. Why was he here?! He took a sharp breath, and his heart seemed to restart only to try to make its way out of his ribcage. He really was standing there, right? His arm lost its hold on the bottle and it hit the wood, shattering to pieces. His chest ached. Anger, desire and need intensified and meshed up together inside of him. His eyes squeezed shut as it became too intense to handle. A few moments passed, the overwhelming surge in his chest ebbed away, leaving cold emptiness in its wake. It was strange. Where did everything go? He was supposed to feel something, right? Where was the rage? The hate? The want? The _love_? This emptiness was smothering.

"Is that him?" Arthur almost jumped out of his chair. He had forgotten about the hooker. He had been that lost in the emptiness inside. He noticed her eyeing Antonio up and down and she grinned at him. "Darling, I'm already in love." She winked.

An ugly beast reared its head inside his chest as he jumped to his feet and growled at her. Her only response was a laugh. Bloody woman. "Don't worry your pretty head, darling. Just make sure to send him my way if you ever decide you don't want him." He felt her grab his shoulders and steer him towards the brunette, who had stopped in front of them. She leaned into him. "Now go get him." A whisper in his ear. Then he was pushed towards the Spaniard. His skin prickled when he felt the other's eyes take him in from head to toe. Then they moved behind him, eyeing the woman there. Her arms left his shoulders with a final squeeze and the door to the pub slammed closed as she left them alone.

"You look like shit." Antonio observed once he had stopped glaring at the woman's retreating back. His attention focused completely on the brit. His voice sent a shiver down Arthur's spine as the blond stepped forward refusing to back away like a coward, now that Antonio was in front of him.

And whose fault was that? He seethed. "Yes, now go away and leave me the fuck alone!" His eyes narrowed in a dark glare. Here, stood the cause of all of his turmoil for the last few months. His tormentor.

Contrary to what he expected, Antonio gazed at him calmly. It was wrong. This expression did not sit well with him. Not on Antonio's face. "You know, corazón, I know what you've been up to."

"…" He opened his mouth, but there seemed to be a lump in his throat. No sound came out. Seeing that he would not say anything, not deny anything, Antonio continued.

"Imagine my surprise, after spending weeks looking for you from port to port, only to have my efforts rewarded by a slap each time I mentioned your name." Antonio's eyes had become two dark slits. "After the first few times it was pretty clear why. Hooker after hooker, coming to collect their payment. Blondes, brunettes, gingers. You weren't very picky, were you?" With each word the lump in Arthur's throat grew, making it hard to breathe. "Men wanting fights for revenge. Tavern owners wanting their tabs paid…" The brunette's tone kept deepening, giving away the anger that was simmering underneath, waiting to be unleashed. "Just tell me why?"

Arthur swallowed and stubbornly remained silent. His voice refused to come out. Not that he had anything to say. He couldn't deny any of it, now could he?

"Were the whores that good, hm?" Antonio took another step closer to the blond, fists clenched at his side. He was trembling with contained rage. "Were they worth it?" He growled at Arthur, baring his teeth.

"…No." Arthur mumbled. His stomach turned into lead as memories flashed through his mind.

"No? What do you mean _no_?"

"…I couldn't do it." Arthur's head lowered as he averted his eyes from the other, unable to look at him. Good lord, why had he said that?

"You couldn't do it? How could you not do it?" Antonio sounded like he didn't know whether to be relieved or mad at him at this point. The confusion was evident in his voice. "What the hell did I pay for? Why?"

Arthur couldn't take it anymore. "…Why? _Why?_ " His head snapped up, his emerald glare froze Antonio on the spot. "Because of _you_ , you fucking bastard!" He snapped at the brunette. Antonio opened his mouth to say something but Arthur wouldn't let him. If Antonio wanted to know why, then Arthur would make sure to fucking tell him. "Because all I could do was compare them to _you_. They were never _good enough!_ I've spent my every moment trying to chase you out of my mind! But you just wouldn't leave! You stubborn bastard!" His voice was raising with each word, but he didn't care. "You are always in my thoughts! In my bloody dreams! All the bloody alcohol on the Caribbean didn't fucking help! I wake up every morning, grabbing the bottle looking for sweet oblivion and peace but I find none! Cause you are always there! In my mind, in my heart, in my bloody _soul_! And I fucking _hate_ you for it! Look at me. Look what you've reduced me to!" He took a gulp of air, trying to calm himself. His heart was hammering against his ribcage.

He glared at the brunette who stood in front of him, frozen in surprise. He finally seemed to come out of his stupor and completely closed the distance between them. Arthur was too drained to move back so he had no choice, but to wait and see what Antonio would do. A gasp left him and he stiffened when two warm, strong arms wrapped around him, and he was pulled against a hard chest.

Antonio was hugging him… The sudden warmth reminded him that they were still in the pouring rain. The other just tightened the embrace and held him close until his tired body stopped shivering.

"Te quiero también." The quiet words startled him and he looked up at the smiling Spaniard. The smile was so warm and loving that Arthur's knees suddenly lost their strength.

Then Antonio leaned in and placed a gentle kiss on Arthur's forehead, sealing their fates.


End file.
